The Worth of Words
by Enimite
Summary: Chapter 2; The rain over Cybertron falls purple, not red. Breakdown never could have predicted the changes the strange liquid would cause, nor the consequences that came with it. (A collection of one-shots, drabbles, and snippets. Centralized around Breakdown/Knock Out, but will include works on other pairings/characters on occasion. Rated M just in case.)
1. Prompt 1

**Prompt 1:** _"Unbelievable. You work up the courage to say her name three times in the mirror, with the candles and everything, but she doesn't have the nerve to show up. Typical urban legends."_

**Characters/Pairings:** Breakdown/Knock Out friendship, Starscream.

A/N: The only times I tend to write are for class assignments and essays. Consequently, I fear that I don't have much literary creativity or good story-building skills. So I figured, what better way to improve at writing fan-fiction than practicing with prompts?

Enjoy.

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><p><strong>Title:<strong> Bloody Mary

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Knock Out momentarily ceased his attempts at lighting the wax candle. Shifting his helm slightly so that his faceplate was visible, he cast his big blue friend a mock hurt expression. "Why, Breakdown, I didn't know you had so little faith in me." Turning back to the candle, Knock Out futilely flicked his match in an unsuccessful attempt to spark a small flame. He let out an upset hiss as the wick failed to kindle before the flame on the matchstick extinguished. Again.

Breakdown shot an unamused look to the Decepticon doctor. "I don't know about you, Doc, but summoning a murderous fleshy isn't really what I consider a fun past-time." Grumbling, the truck offhandedly poked at his optic patch. "I've had enough of those," he added.

Knock Out laughed good-naturedly. "Please, Breakdown, when are my ideas ever bad?" Patting a reassuring servo on the blue mech's arm plating, the Aston Martin gave the truck a confident grin. Breakdown figured the confidence went on a one-way street though, as he didn't feel very reassured at all.

Breakdown was seriously beginning to regret his suggestion at stopping at a drive-in theater during one of their energon scouting missions. At the time he only wanted to take a break from mindlessly tracking unreliable energon signals and share in a favorite past-time with his best friend; but of course things never went as planned for the large Cybertronian. The movie itself had been enjoyable, a classic horror that went by the title _Candyman_. The plot had been chilling, the scenes suspenseful, and the ending had left Breakdown with a shiver in his back strut. But of course, Knock Out enjoyed researching any newly watched horror movies in an attempt to avoid missing any human-only contexts in the movie. In which the red mech discovered the movie's origins in a human urban legend on an informational website. Soon, one thing led to another.

Which ended up with the two Decepticons to be in their current situation; holed up in the dark private wash racks of the Med-bay, standing in front of a large mirror, with one cursing out a matchbox and candle.

_"Fragging candle! Burn, you piece of human scrap-"_

Reaching into a subspace, Breakdown procured a small welder and offered the tool to the increasingly frustrated medic.

Knock Out blinked at the welder set in front of his faceplate. Flicking his optics to Breakdown, then back to the tool, the Aston Martin plucked the item from his assistant's hands and imparted a pleased grin to the blue truck. "And this is _exactly_ why I keep you around," he purred, happily turning on the welder, moving the small blue flame over to the small candle wick. Breakdown rolled his optic.

"_Aha!_" Knock Out triumphantly exclaimed, servos set on his hips as he presented the tiny flickering flame in a manner that was entirely too self-congratulating for such a trivial feat. Flicking a sharp digit in a 'come-hither' motion, the medic bid Breakdown to join him in front of the large mirror. Reluctantly, Breakdown shut the automatic door behind him, plunging the wash rack into near-complete darkness, with only the dim ember of the candle providing a weak glow for visibility.

Breakdown moved in position behind Knock Out, his anxious expression reflected off the large mirror in front of the two Decepticons, plating illuminated an eerie orange from the candle wick. Knock Out glanced back at his partner with an expectant look.

"Alright Breaky, you know what to do right? Three times, exactly as and when I say it, okay?" Hesitantly a blue and silver helm nodded. Satisfied, Knock Out rubbed his servos together in anticipation and faced directly with his image in the reflective surface.

Pausing, the sports car spent a second to admire his glossy visage—Carnauba wax really did _wonders_ for his finish—regrettably, however, he really needed to get started on summoning this fleshy horror before his own apprehension beat down his curiosity.

Raising a servo to his mouth and coughing out a small 'ahem,' Knock Out's mouth-plates slightly separated to form the first syllable of the ritual. Breakdown's own facial movements following closely in cue.

"_Bloody Mary."_

Breakdown's digits twitched in a nervous tick, paranoia and apprehension filling his frame as the dark seemed to close around him. Uneasy thoughts swirled in the ex-Stunticon's processor. '_What if it actually shows up? What if my hammer doesn't work against it?'_

"_Bloody Mary."_

Knock Out's vents hitched, and he felt as if bolt bats were fluttering around in his tanks. Belatedly, the cherry red mech was beginning to wonder if this little horror experiment hadn't been such a good idea after all. Steadying his venting, the doctor inhaled deeply.

"_**Bloody Mary."**_

The two Cybertronians went still, frames unmoving and stiff, optics darting into the dark spaces of the mirror reflection. Whirring fans an ambient noise that added to the chilling atmosphere of the encompassing blackness around them. Breakdown edged closer to his lithe red partner, hammer out in preparation to bash any blood-curdling apparitions that might pop out, screaming bloody murder into his faceplate.

A full klik passed by their internal clocks before Knock Out broke the tense environment with an annoyed, yet slightly relieved, loud sigh.

"Unbelievable," the CMO huffed. "You work up the courage to say her name three times in the mirror, with the candle and everything, but she doesn't have the nerve to show up! Typical human urban legends." Throwing his arms up dramatically in disappointment, Knock Out strode over to the input panel of the locked door. Breakdown chuckled lowly at his friend's antics, sub-spacing back his hammer, simply glad to have the whole thing done with and thankfully untraumatized.

Knock Out continued to nag as he tapped a clawed servo against the flat panel in a series of beeps. "Honestly, does this 'Mary' have _any_ idea how hard it was to get enough wax to-" The Decepticon medic began to lift a pede to step out into the bright Medical Bay as the metal doors slid into the walls. Turning his helm in front of him, he was met with the bloody silhouette of a tall, frighteningly thin form. It had wrathful, glowing red slits for eyes, and an expression that held nothing but loathful rage, promising nothing but pain for those who crossed it. Liquid dripped like a waterfall from the nightmarish creature, and with open-mouthed horror did Knock Out realize it's right arm was detached from the joint and—_Primus, the missing limb was reaching right for his __**face-**_

"**Knock Out!** I have been in need of urgent repair and here I find you dilly-dallying on your duties agai-"

Shrieking in alarm, Knock Out leapt off his pedes onto the large, and safer, chassis of his much bigger company, scrambling in blind panic. Breakdown had re-transformed out his hammer in his own shock, one hand supporting the terror-stricken medic, lethal weapon raised inches from smashing Starscream's helm in.

Recovering from nearly having his faceplate pummeled by a massive hammer, and certain that it _wouldn't _be, Starscream chose to calm his own spooked spark by taunting at Knock Out's strange reaction to the Second-in-Command's sudden appearance. Clutching at his abdomen, the silver Seeker brought back his servo that he had been waving his severed arm in front of the medic's face with . The skinny frame hunched over, wings trembling as he laughed mockingly at Knock Out's startled expression.

"_Hah-! _Why, Knock Out—_Haha_—I hadn't realized—_Hah!_—you were so frightened by amputated limbs-! Ha ha ha!" Nearly choking from his mirth, Starscream stuttered his words in between laughs, covering his faceplate as he cackled.

As soon as his terrorized spark stopped threatening to burst from his chest plate, Knock Out narrowed his eyes dangerously at Starscream. Feeling his fluid boiling from the sheer embarrassment of having been caught off guard—by_ Starscream_ of all mechs—Knock Out, nursing his wounded pride, calmly set himself back on his pedes from Breakdown's chassis. His servo twitched in irritation at the Seeker's continual ridicule, mouth-plates pressed hard into a deceptively calm line.

Breakdown looked down sympathetically at his superior.

Lubricant filling his optics, the silver Decepticon wiped them away feebly as he eyed the room behind the two speechless mechs. "What were you two even doing in there? Primus, is that one of those _human_ candles-"

Starscream suddenly flailed as a deco-ed red arm jabbed him to the side sharply. Knock Out tilted his chin up haughtily as he strut pass the surprised Seeker, Breakdown following closly behind as usual. Stepping in front of the entrance of the Medical Bay, the seething medic craned his neck back to eye the still snickering SIC.

"I must apologize, Starscream. Since I am _oh so frightened _by amputated limbs, you'll have to find a way to reattach _yours_ back yourself." Sneering, Knock Out turned back to his loyal assistant and gave a purposeful tilt of his helm. "Come, Breakdown, I think I'm in need of a good buffing session."

Starscream gaped in disbelief as the metal doors slid close behind the two retreating forms of the CMO and his partner. Snapping out of his stupor, the Vosnian Seeker quickly scrambled to chase after Knock Out and Breakdown, severed arm flopping uselessly in his servo.

"Knock Out, stop! Wait! As Second-in-Command, I order you to—oh _come now_ doctor, be reasonable-"


	2. Prompt 2

**Prompt 2:** "_The rain begins to change. It doesn't destroy any roofs or any plants, but it triggers mutations in the population of multiple cities."_

**Characters/Pairing:** Some light Breakdown/Knock Out towards the end, Stunticons, small mention of Starscream.

A/N: And of course, I make this into a zombie au.

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><p><strong>Title:<strong> It's Raining, It's Pouring

Breakdown frowned as the sound of raindrops clinking against the metallic surfaces of Iacon reached his audio receptors.

Strange. The forecast had not mentioned it would be raining this solar cycle.

The large, blue mech supposed he received the better end of the stick this time. Due to a freak accident in the construction area, involving an incompetent dark-green mech—who of which Breakdown swore he would bash his head in with his hammer someday and _enjoy _it—and a thin but sturdy titanium beam, he ended up with one less optic and a few orns from work to recover. Breakdown grumbled unhappily as he scratched at his recently installed optical patch. He detested being forced to sit on his aft all cycle, but at least he could avoid the dreaded corrosive liquid.

His brothers, however, would surely being caught in the acidic rain. Being in the construction-caste often meant you worked outdoors, and Drag Strip would certainly be fussing over his paint job as the red rain tended to strip off the layers of wax and color easily. Breakdown chuckled at the image, he wasn't too worried about his brothers getting their functions disabled from the rain. Motormaster and the others should have been finishing their shifts already; they would reach their apartment quickly enough before prolonged exposure would disable their circuits.

Breakdown casually leaned over the arm of the couch to look out through the tiny window of his shared apartment, expecting to see bots huddled under the metal canopies for shelter from the unexpected weather. However, instead of the familiar sight of red looming clouds and droplets, his optics were met with an ominous shade of lavender that reflected off the shiny alloy surfaces of the street, and strange purple droplets dripped down in rivets on the glass panel. The Cybertronian streets were eerily empty and void of life. Furthermore, the high-pitched hissing sound that were often indicators to thin layers of metal being melted away by the acidic compound was nonexistent.

Breakdown frowned, confused. _What in Primus was going on?_

As suddenly as it started, the strange purple rain soon faded away into a light sprinkle until it stopped dripping down from the sky entirely.

Breakdown blinked. '_Well that is the shortest rain cycle I have ever seen,' _He thought to himself. As strange as it was, however, this did offer him an opportunity to see exactly what the scrap was happening without fear of strange effects from the unknown liquid.

Eager to sate his growing curiosity, Breakdown quickly rose from the tattered old couch and peeked out from the door into the quiet street where he lived. Tentatively he moved his helm left to right, but saw no other living spark other than his own.

He momentarily tried to activate his radio transmitter to comm his brothers, but only a strange static filtered through the channels. Thoroughly puzzled, the blue truck stepped a large pede out onto the grey street and started walking down along the road.

After walking down the familiar pathways for a few kliks, paranoia was filling Breakdown's processor and he was beginning to think he'd somehow become the last Cybertronian in Iacon until a familiar shade of black and red was caught in the corner of his vision. Breakdown let out a vent in audible relief.

"Wildrider! Thank Primus I found you. Did you see that strange purple rain? And why didn't you answer communications? Anyway, where are the others-" Breakdown snapped his mouth shut as the sudden, audio-piercing screech of crushed metal interrupted his questioning. When his processor finally began to catch up to his surroundings, Breakdown suddenly noticed the yellow frame underneath Wildrider that he had somehow initially missed.

The mech's chassis was ripped open, metal bending outwards, like a servo had somehow broken straight through the thick protective armor and then _pulled_, ripping out central wires and circuits. Deep grooves and scratches littered the frame, and layers of yellow superstructure were scattered around the alley, revealing much of the protoform underneath. Energon was leaking out and spilling out into a puddle of blue, staining both the murdered transformer's frame as well as Wildrider's.

Despite the degree of mutilation on the rest of the bot, the faceplate was left intact just enough for Breakdown to recognize it as Drag Strip.

Jerking at the sudden realization, Breakdown nearly threw up his tanks in horror. "Drag Strip?" He muttered in disbelief, shock and fear filling his very core. Primus, he knew Wildrider was psychotic at times, but not like _this_.

A wide yellow optic moved back to Wildrider's hunched figure, and ruthless icy terror gripped Breakdown as it dawned to him that the sound of crushed metal was the result of Wildrider shoving Drag Strip's sparkless chamber into his mouth and _eating _it.

Wildrider was devouring the pieces of their offlined brother voraciously, _like a fragging_ _scraplet_.

Immediately, the construction-caste transformer pivoted to _**get the frag out of here**__._ Unfortunately, Breakdown was painfully reminded that he was never the luckiest of mechs, as his lunatic of a brother finally noticed his presence and turned to face him.

The sight of Wildrider's mouthplates opening, splitting into three parts of a gaping maw full of sharp dental plates and strange purple energon veins nearly short-circuited Breakdown's cerebral processor.

Breakdown yelped as Wildrider suddenly lunged and grasped his leg armor with an impossibly strong grip. He winced in pain as protective platings whined and were crushed beneath the pressure. _'Slag, slag, slag!' _Breakdown mentally screamed, and transformed his hammer out from his servos. With adrenaline rushing through his fluid pumps, he brought down the heavy instrument and pounded Wildrider's arm into a nearly flat sheet of metal

Although this successfully forced Wildrider to relinquish his death grip on Breakdown's leg, the pain didn't seem to process through Wildrider's pain sensors at all. Instead of a howl or scream of agony from losing an arm, the creature immediately retaliated by launching itself onto the big blue mech. Startled, Breakdown felt himself tip over and his helm clashed painfully onto the hard metal of the ground.

"_Wildrider!_" He gasped, head reeling from the impact, "Wildrider, stop! It's me, Breakdown!"

Breakdown struggled as Wildrider made a lunge at his faceplates, monstrous maw snapping madly in what he imagined as an attempt to bite out his facials. He let out a howl of agony as sharp claws suddenly swiped deep slices into his abdomen. Lurching, Breakdown twisted at his waist and pushed all his weight into flipping his brother-turned-monster off his chassis. Immediately moving himself back onto his pedes, Breakdown raised up his hammer and brought it down with all the strength he could muster and pummeled at Wildrider's energon splattered frame.

Sickly purple energon leaked out from dents from where hammer impacted the metal structure, and the black chassis began caving in from the force of the blows. Wildrider gave a high pitched unCybertronian-like screech and a final jerk before finally settling still, spark chamber squashed flat into oblivion.

Breakdown vented harshly, and shakily lifted himself off to lean heavily on the walls of the alley. Once his processor began clearing from the red haze of battle, Breakdown took another glance at his pulverized brother.

This time, he did empty his tanks at the sight.

Heaving until all of the energon from his morning cube, as well as the unprocessed one from the previous cycle's dinner, was extracted from his tanks onto the flooring, Breakdown shivered in new-found horror. How could he have done that to Wildrider? Breakdown swayed as a wave of pain hit at him from the deep gashes on his abdominal plates.

_'No,' _he shuddered, _'That thing was not Wildrider.'_

Supporting himself with a shaky servo on the steel wall, the other clutching the wound at his lower chassis, Breakdown straightened his back strut. Slowly trudging his pedes forward, Breakdown exited the alleyway back to the main streets, hydraulics hissing in protest from his half-crushed leg. His central processor was slow and cloudy from the energon loss.

Breakdown clenched his dental plates. He definitely needed to perform some first aid very soon lest forced stasis would be induced. With an objective in mind, he limped towards the town's common general store.

As automatic doors slid open, Breakdown was not surprised to see the small market also empty of other Cybertronians. He suspected at this point that any other mechs or femmes were either far away, half-eaten, or turned into one of those freakish cannibalistic freak-of-natures like Wildrider.

Quickly shifting through the shelves and gathering standard clamps as well as a small first-aid welder, along with a few medical-grade cubes to replace the lost energon, Breakdown hobbled to the corner of the store and propped himself down heavily against the wall.

"First things first,"Breakdown mumbled as he picked up the small clamps. Reaching a shaky servo into his sliced abdomen, large digits felt for the loose fuel lines. After finding the lines, Breakdown carefully pulled them into view, optic brow furrowing as he observed the slowing pour of energon from the open tubing. Not a good sign, it only meant that there wasn't much energon _left_ to be spilled out. Red HUD warnings flashed across his display, alerting to imminent forced stasis and then inevitable deactivation.

Vaguely, Breakdown took note of the bright blue energon contrasting against the white mineral marbling of the store floor. It was a long, blue pathway that lead to a large blue puddle. Of which he was sitting in.

Gripping onto the cablings, Breakdown pinched the open energon lines and quickly placed a clamp onto the end, effectively blocking the flow of mech fluid. Once the more major lines had been constricted, Breakdown felt the tension leave his structure.

It was a good thing being in the construction-caste made knowing Cybertronian first-aid practically mandatory if the particular bot had any sense of self preservation. Accidents were unfortunately entirely too commonplace in Breakdown's line of work; as evidenced by his lack of an optic. Of course, he had no idea on how to exactly reattach the fuel lines together, which would need to be done sooner or later, but this was sufficient for the moment.

Quickly moving on, Breakdown reached for the first-aid weld, but scowled as he realized the weld would only be able to patch the smaller wounds. A larger welder would be needed if he wanted to weld shut the largest open cuts. Angrily, Breakdown discarded the welder and downed his energon cubes.

After the more crucial injuries had been dealt with, Breakdown gave a critical eye to his leg. He delicately ran a blunt finger along the mangled blue metal. Self-repair would make it so that he could still walk on it, but he would have to get a medic-caste to fully repair it. Otherwise, this would be a serious detriment to his movements.

And if there were anymore Cybertronians like Wildrider, he _definitely_ wanted full articulation of his legs.

Tiredly, Breakdown leaned a helm back against the cool metal wall. Shuttering his optics, the mech felt the tempting tendrils of recharge slipping into his exhausted frame. It wasn't safe, with the new threat of monstrous Cybertronians on his aft, but recharge was necessary for continual function in his current state.

His battered frame needed time to heal, so Breakdown allowed recharge to cover him in comfortable darkness.

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><p>A single optic slowly onlined, glowing yellow squinting against the darkness of the convenience store.<p>

Activating his standard night vision, Breakdown blinked sleepily as his memory core caught up with his processor. Checking his internal clock, it deemed that he had been in recharge for a little over two solar cycles.

Cumbersomely, Breakdown attempted to lift himself up from the dried energon pool beneath him, but hissed as thick dull pain racked through his frame. Primus, he was sore _everywhere_.

_Clink!_

Breakdown abruptly froze and immediately dimmed his optic to the lowest setting. _Frag!_

Transforming his hammer from his subspace as quietly as he could, Breakdown cautiously swept a single optic through the deceptively quiet store. Nothing seemed to be there.

_'I could've swore I heard-' _his thoughts began before a bright red frame appeared at the very edges of his optical vision and a blaster at his helm.

Mentally, not for the first time, he cursed the green construction worker a million times in his head. '_Primus damned optic patch and Primus damned blind spot!'_

"Huh," Drawled an elite-accented voice. "And here I thought you were offlined. Not a Terrorcon are you, big mech?"

The edges of Breakdown's mouthplates tilted down in confusion. Terrorcon?

Nevertheless, the elite-caste mech seemed to be waiting on an answer. Breakdown swallowed thickly. "You mean those mech eating creatures? No, but my brother was one." He felt bile at the back of his throat at the thought of his mutilated brothers. "Who are you?"

A lithe, cherry red frame moved fully into Breakdown's vision and he nearly reset his optic in disbelief. The mech in front of him was_ gorgeous, _all polished surfaces and smooth superstructures, complete with a perfectly sculpted white faceplate; red armor tapered into smooth arms and a slender waist. Breakdown thought back to the Cybertronian models on Drag Strip's magazines that his brother enjoyed so much, and they couldn't even begin to compare to the mech in front of him.

_'Definitely an elite.'_

Raising a perfect black optic brow, an amused smirk graced the red mech's faceplate. "Now, now, who's the one with the blaster here?" He waved the aforementioned weapon teasingly, "I'll be the one asking the questions. Besides, it's rude not to introduce oneself before asking for another bot's name."

Breakdown's flicked a glossa over his dry mouthplates. "Breakdown." He relented, eventually.

"Breakdown," the smaller mech repeated, testing the name around his own glossa, and Breakdown decided that he liked the sound of his name rolled across the elite's voice. Very much, actually. "Well, Breakdown, the name is Knock Out."

Red optics seemed to consider the state of Breakdown's frame, taking note of the large gash on the lower chassis and the twisted metal of the blue truck's leg. After a final look of suspicion, Knock Out subspaced his blaster and crouched down near the blue Cybertronian's mauled form.

Smiling conspiratorially, Knock Out reached a sharp claw under the construction worker's chin. Breakdown felt his orange faceplate heat from the proximity of the red mech.

"How about a deal, Breakdown?" Breakdown's servo twitched in surprise. _Huh?_

"You see, me and a few acquaintances agreed to travel to the Science Academy in Nova Cronum. Unfortunately, as you can tell, due to...unexpected circumstances," (Breakdown swore he heard something along the lines of—_fragging Starscream, traitorous pit-spawn of a glitch—_under Knock Out's breath) "I was split off from the group and holed myself in here." A black servo lazily gestured at the space around them, "Where, of course, I found you. Although, at the time, I figured you had been offlined considering the amount of energon spillage around your structure." Knock Out pursed his mouthplates and gave a thoughtful tilt of his helm to the dried pool of fluid.

Knock Out turned back to the blue mech and gave a bright smile "You seem like a strong mech. So, if you agree to escort me to the Science Academy in Nova Cronum, I'll fix that nasty gash and leg of yours. I can't do anything for your paint job right now, but that'll be easily remedied once we reach the Academy." Pausing, he ran contemplating optics over Breakdown's frame. "I'd say a nice wax and coat would do wonders," he purred.

Ignoring the last part, Breakdown pointed a baffled expression at the cherry red mech."You're medic-caste?" the ground transformer asked, perplexed.

Knock Out gave the large mech a strange look. "Of course. What did you think I was?" Suddenly embarrassed, Breakdown nearly stuttered his next words. "I—I figured you were somewhere in the elite-caste, judging from your accent and frame..." He trailed off, feeling awkward. Knock Out only seemed to brighten, however, and preened at his words. "Well, I _do_ try to give a good impression," Red on black optics winked. "So, how about that deal?"

It wasn't a hard choice for the big blue Cybertronian. With his injuries he would have no chance at defending himself from another Terrorcon attack, nor did he have any other plans originally. Moreover, he wondered at the fates of his other brothers, and this would provide a good opportunity to search out for them as he traveled to Nova Cronum.

_'Besides,' _he inwardly thought, secretly enjoying the handsome aesthetics of Knock Out's glossy and unscratched framework, _'Watching Knock Out's back would hardly be a chore.'_

"Yeah," Breakdown replied, after a moment, with an agreeable nod of his helm. "It's a deal."

Knock Out beamed and immediately began attaching medical lines to open ports. The medic-caste Cybertronian began chattering as dexterous digits expertly moved to work on reattaching broken fuel lines.

"Not a bad attempt at first aid for being a contruction bot by the way, if Cybertron wasn't currently infested with bot-eating Terrorcons I would offer you a job as my assistant!"

End.


End file.
